


Isaac

by Otrera



Series: Isaac!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dad Sam Winchester, Found Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Sam Winchester, Parental Sam Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Psychic Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Season/Series 05, Single Parent Sam Winchester, Sporadic Updates, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Gabriel (Supernatural), Witch Sam Winchester, found family trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 18:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otrera/pseuds/Otrera
Summary: Sam must juggle the apocalypse, a baby, and the Trickster all on his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The first chapter of the revised version of Isaac. I hope you all enjoy!

Sam had had a son and didn't know.

Sam had had a son with a _demon_ and didn't know.

Sam's son was screaming at the top of his lungs.

At that point, all Sam wanted to do was cry. The Apocalypse was nigh and it was all his fault, Dean had basically just told him he never wanted to see him again, and Isaac had been screaming for hours.

“Shh,” Sam soothed, bouncing Isaac a little. “Shh. It's okay. You're okay. Please don't cry.”

Isaac puked all over Sam's shirt, as well as his own blanket and the onesie Sam had just dressed him in. Sam sighed.

They only had one baby blanket, so Sam swaddled Isaac in one of his own enormous flannels after he dressed him in a fresh onesie.

Fortunately, puking had apparently satisfied Isaac enough for him to stop crying. Sam laid down on the crappy motel bed, Isaac on his chest, gently rubbing his back. The baby made small, squeaky noises from time to time, and wormed his left arm free from his swaddling. Sam gently nudged Isaac's tiny fist with his index finger. Isaac's little fingers immediately latched onto Sam's.

“That's called your grasp reflex,” Sam told his son in a soft, quiet voice. “It means you're healthy.” At least, that was what the parenting websites had said. “You’re going to be the healthiest baby in the world, even if you do have to live in motel rooms and eat greasy diner food…”

Sam rambled on about pointless, arbitrary things for what felt like an eternity. Isaac was asleep soon, lulled to slumber by the steady sound of Sam's voice and the rise and fall of Sam's chest as he breathed. Sam stroked his hair and sighed.

“I don't know what to do,” he whispered. Everything was hopeless. Dean hated him, and he couldn't stop the Apocalypse without his brother. Not while he had to take care of Isaac, at least. There was always the option of leaving him on someone's doorstep, or out front of a social services building, but… it would be wrong. Isaac was Sam's son, no matter who his mother was, and Sam would be damned if he gave up on him.

“Well, well, well,” said a cheerful voice, “I think you might have given me a daddy kink, Sammy-boy.”

Sam sat up so fast his head spun. Isaac jerked awake and began crying.

At the foot of his bed lounged the Trickster, in all his smug, candy-eating glory. The moonlight from the window glinted off his eyes and made them even more mischievous than usual.

Sam stood and faced the Trickster, clutching Isaac to his chest, his back to the door. He stroked Isaac's head. The baby quieted.

“I mean, look at you! I don't know how all the single parents aren't just flocking to your door.”

“What are you doing here?” Sam's tone held no patience for casual banter.

“Straight to business, huh? Well, if that's the way you want to do it.” The Trickster stopped lounging and sat up with his hands on his knees and his feet firmly planted on the floor. “Word on the street is, the dynamic duo is a duo no longer. Wanted to come check it out myself.”

“Well, it's true. You can leave now.* Sam inched toward the door. If he could get out of the room, he might be able to make it to the car…

The Trickster snorted. “Hell no. I still wanna know how little Sammy Winchester ended up fathering a cambion.”

“A what?” said Sam sharply.

The Trickster raised an eyebrow. “A cambion. Demon spawn. Don't tell me you didn't know?”

Sam hadn't know there was a word for it. It didn't change the way he felt about Isaac, knowing that, but it eased the loneliness inside him ever so slightly. He wasn't the only part-demon in the world.

“It doesn't matter. It's none of your business.”

“The world's ending. The harbinger of the Apocalypse is trying to raise a kid. I figure that's my business.”

“I’m not -”

“Not what? The reason the world is ending? Not entirely, I’ll give you that. Prophecies and the word of God, blah blah blah. But you did break the final seal, and you are Lucifer’s True Vessel.”

Sam's heart pounded. “How do you know all that?”

The Trickster shrugged. “I get around.” He narrowed his eyes. “You look like you're about to pass out.”

“I'm not.”

“Discovering the joys of a colicky baby, huh?” The Trickster stood. “Tell you what. How about you get a night of actual sleep, I'll come back in the morning, and then we'll talk. Sound like a plan?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” He snapped, and darkness whisked Sam away to blissful oblivion.

* * *

 Sam woke slowly. It was a rare occasion that he wasn't woken up by a pillow to the face from Dean or, lately, by Isaac loudly demanding breakfast. He snuggled his pillow, warm and content, until -

" _Isaac_!"

Not once, not a single time had Isaac awoken the previous night. Usually he woke Sam up multiple times to be fed. Then Sam remembered the Trickster dropping in, and he became so frantic in his efforts to escape the blankets that he fell out of bed.

"Is that why you're such a mess? You hit your head on the nightstand falling out of bed every morning?"

Sam got to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. The Trickster was raising an eyebrow at him, which would have been plenty of cause for concern even if he hadn't been holding Sam's son and feeding him a bottle.

"Give him to me," Sam said in a level voice. He didn't want to risk antagonising the Trickster by using the wrong tone of voice.

"Who, the kid?" The Trickster glanced down at him. "You're not even going to say thank you for feeding him?"

"Give me my son," Sam repeated more forcefully.

"Yeesh, chill." The Trickster carefully handed over Isaac, blanket and all. Sam held him tightly.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you yesterday, didn't I?" He snapped his fingers. The bed made itself, and he sat down in the edge of it, perfectly at ease. "I wanna know all the juicy gossip about the latest generation of Winchester."

"You seem to know a lot already."

The Trickster waved his hand airily. "The basic stuff, like the fact that he exists. But I wanna know the important stuff, like who's his mom, and how did it happen."

Sam's throat closed up. "His mom was Lilith."

The Trickster clearly hadn't been expecting that. "Lilith? Like, “the First Demon" Lilith?"

"Yeah."

"What, did she force you?"

"No. She... she lied to me. Said she'd stop the Apocalypse if I slept with her."

"And you believed her?" The Trickster sounded disappointed. "And here I thought you were the smart one."

"It was worth a shot, okay?" Sam snapped. God, he was so sick of everyone looking down on him. Yeah, he'd made some shifty choices, but that didn't mean they had to rub it in. He sat down on the other end of the bed, careful not to disturb Isaac, who was looking sleepy. "He was born the night Lucifer rose. Guess demons have a shorter gestation period."

"Hmm."

They sat in silence for a long while. Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Aren't you going to leave now?"

"Nah. I think I'll stick around."

Horror filled him. "What? Why?"

"I like kids. This little guy will need someone to take care of him when you're dead from trying to stop the world ending."

Sam's stomach dropped. "I'm not -"

"Going to die? Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you are. Now, I'm not going to try to persuade you to stop trying, but I'm not going to help you either. I'm just here for the kid."

Sam closed his eyes. This could not be happening. No way had the Trickster just declared he would be stalking him to take care of his kid. "No, you are not.”

The Trickster raised one eyebrow. "Yeah? Try and stop me."


	2. Chapter 2

The Trickster was a stubborn asshole. Sam threatened, tied up, stabbed, and attempted to trap him, but he just would not leave Sam and Isaac alone. Sam spent the majority of his free time researching how to get rid of him, usually while the nuisance himself lounged on a nearby chair and kept up a running commentary.

Sam _did_ , however, manage to convince him to stay out of the motel room at night. It was only on the condition that Sam didn’t stay awake and run himself ragged. Sam scoffed and asked why he cared, and the Trickster reminded him that he was only there for Isaac. Isaac couldn’t exactly flourish if his dad was constantly suffering from sleep deprivation.

He had to admit, it was nice to get a full night’s sleep. Isaac hardly ever woke him up in the night anymore, which worried Sam at first, but then he realised the Trickster was probably feeding him at night, like the first day he started stalking Sam.

It should have made him uneasy to know the Trickster was feeding him at night and breaking his promise, but it didn’t. For all his faults and general dickishness, Sam truly believed that the Trickster would never hurt Isaac. After all, Isaac was the reason he’d stuck around in the first place - to protect him when ( _if_ ) the Apocalypse happened. The Trickster’s MO was hurting people who hurt other people. Isaac was three months old, he couldn’t hurt anybody beyond spitting up on their shirt.

Sam still didn’t leave Isaac alone with him. He didn’t trust him not to steal the baby while Sam was preoccupied.

After about a week, Sam decided to shelve his issues with the Trickster in favour of cracking down on researching the Apocalypse. Nearly every religion anticipated the end of the world, and they all had different ideas on how it was going to happen. Sam focused on the Christian version of things. Everything he looked at spewed the same crap over and over: Michael would defeat Lucifer for good, and Paradise would be brought to Earth once again. There was never anything on how to stop it. Why would there be? Paradise on Earth seemed perfect. Until you factored in half the human population dying because of it.

The Trickster snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face while he was reading. Sam jerked backwards in his chair on instinct.

“Sammy-boy, chill the fuck out. You’re practically oozing desperation and anxiety. It’s not fun.”

Sam glared and batted his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in a full day.”

“I said I’m fine!” Sam slammed the ancient tome shut. “I thought you said you wouldn’t try to stop me from ending this.”

“I also said I wouldn’t help you, either, but here I am, making sure you don’t die because you thought starving yourself to death was a good idea.”

Sam’s stomach growled. Isaac gurgled from his car seat by Sam’s feet and gnawed on his fist, like he was hungry, too.

Sam scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fine. We’ll go get some lunch.”

The Trickster’s face bore an expression that was oddly reminiscent of concern. “You mean dinner?”

“What?”

“It’s almost eight o’clock at night.”

Sam stood and parted the curtains of the motel room window. He was shocked to find that the sun was sinking in the distance, turning the sky brilliant pinks and oranges. “I… I didn’t realize.”

They found a diner with bright neon signs declaring _Open_ and _Chocolate Milkshakes_ and _Burgers_. Sam ordered a salad that was more wilted spinach than an actual salad. The Trickster ordered two milkshakes with two straws so he could drink both of them at the same time.

“So, I was thinking.” He took a long pull from his straws. “You’re trying to hide from the angels, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So why are you staying in one place for so long?”

Isaac whimpered. Sam took the opportunity to ignore the Trickster’s question. He unbuckled Isaac from his car seat and lifted him onto his lap, then got a bottle out of the diaper bag. Isaac grabbed at the bottle as Sam fed him.

Sam didn’t want to admit that he was still hoping Dean would change his mind and come looking for him.

“We can leave after dinner,” he said.

The Trickster studied him. Sam ducked his head and let his hair fall in his face, pretending to be focused on Isaac.

“How about in the morning instead?” he suggested quietly. “So you and the kid can sleep.”

Sam briefly closed his eyes. “Okay.”

Dinner was a quiet affair after that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some brief ableist language in this chapter, it's in a quote from the show.

After their conversation in the diner, they didn’t stay in one place for more than a few days. They slept, they ate, Sam used the local library, and then they moved on.

More and more often, Sam found the Trickster acting like he was trying to take care of Sam, like he was a baby, too. Sam ranked his behaviour somewhere between annoying and suspicious, which, yeah, was pretty common for the Trickster. The Trickster gave the excuse that it was because he wanted Isaac’s dad to stay as healthy as possible until the end of the world - for Isaac’s sake, of course - but Sam wasn’t buying it.

Sam pestered him about it until the Trickster grabbed him by the collar, yanked him down to eye level, and said, calmly and dangerously, “I’m not going to say this again: stop asking. Or things will get ugly.”

Sam didn’t bother him about it after that.

A few times, Sam would be driving through a town and decide to stop at a motel for the night, and the Trickster would tell him to keep driving. “There’s a vamp nest nearby,” he would say, or, “Violent spirit in town, Sammy-boy. Keep going.”

Sam always wanted to stop and get rid of the threat, but going on hunts with a baby was hard, and he still didn’t trust the Trickster enough to leave him alone with Isaac. The Trickster also informed him that the angels were checking out areas the Winchesters might hunt, and that it was safer for everyone if Sam left those areas well enough alone.

Sometime in the end of August, they stopped in a small town in Nebraska. They found a motel, dropped their stuff off, and went to a diner down the street to get dinner.

It was as normal a dinner as they usually went to; the waitress cooed over Isaac, the food was greasy, and the salad was wilted. _Un_ usually, the Trickster frowned the entire meal. Sam tried to coax a reason for his sour mood out of him, but all he got was, “I’ll explain when we get back to the motel.”

When they got back, Sam put Isaac in his pack and play and turned around to face the Trickster. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” The Trickster held up a hand to stall Sam’s interruptions. “The people at the table by the counter were talking about some weird stuff happening lately. This girl scratched her brains out because of itching powder, another guy was electrocuted by a joy buzzer. That kind of weird. I checked out the whole town but I didn’t sense anything.” He shook his head. “Something’s not right.”

“Maybe whatever’s causing the - the weird stuff can cloak itself.”

“It wouldn’t be able to hide from me.” The Trickster spoke with absolute certainty.

Sam stared at the floor. If this was before the whole shitstorm that was Lucifer escaping, Sam probably would have started investigating the next morning, but things were different now. That wasn’t an option.

At least… not the way he used to do things. Maybe with a little improvisation, he could figure something out.

“Did you manage to catch any names?” Sam asked.

“The girl with the itching powder was called Amber Freer.”

“How old was she?”

“Dunno. Old enough to babysit.”

Sam nodded, slowly forming a plan. “What d’you say we take a trip to the morgue tomorrow?”

* * *

 “This is a bad idea, Sam,” the Trickster muttered. “We should get the heck out of dodge while we can. This thing is dangerous.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Isaac gurgled from where he was cradled in the baby carrier on Sam’s chest and swatted at the Trickster’s hair.

Sam opened the door and let Gabriel walk into the morgue first. Sam followed close behind. The doctor at the front desk glanced up.

“Gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

Sam withdrew an FBI badge from inside the diaper bag. “I’m Agent Plant. I need to see Amber Freer’s body.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Agent, huh? Is the baby part of a new uniform?”

Sam didn’t let it faze him. He had his cover story all worked out. “Technically, I’m not on duty right now. I’ve been friends with Rebecca Freer for years, and when she told me what happened to Amber, I promised her I would come check it out, make sure there was no foul play involved.”

“And who are you?”

Gabriel flipped open his own FBI badge. “Agent Page. I told my partner I’d come with him.”

The doctor stood and gestured for them to follow him. He opened one of the freezers and pulled out a slab with Amber’s body on it. Sam covered Isaac’s eyes with one hand.

“When they brought her in, we thought she was attacked by a wolf or something,” said the doctor, “but we were wrong.” He handed Sam a plastic bag that was sitting on the slab. It contained one bloody fake fingernail.

“Is that a -”

“It’s a press-on nail. We found it in her temporal lobe.”

“So she scratched her own brains out,” said Sam. “The kid she was babysitting, he said he put itching powder on her hairbrush. Is there any chance that has anything to with this?”

“I don’t see how,” said the doctor. “It would hurt like hell. More likely, she had some undiagnosed illness - OCD, PCP, pick your crazy.”

The Trickster inspected the gruesome hole in the side of Amber’s head. “There’s been other weird stuff like this happening lately, hasn’t there?”

“What kind of stuff do you mean?” asked the doctor.

“Guy got electrocuted by a joy buzzer the other day. This morning, a man was admitted to the hospital claiming the tooth fairy stole all his teeth. That kind of weird.”

“I didn’t know about the, uh, tooth fairy guy, but yes, Jake Callahan was electrocuted. We have his body, too, if you’d like to take a look.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Sam. “Thank you for your time, Doctor. We’ll let you know if there’s anything we could use your help for.”

“Of course, Agents.”

“So, what do you think?” Sam asked the Trickster as soon as they were outside.

The Trickster shook his head. “I don’t know _what_ to think. There’s nothing connecting the victims, no motives, no magic. Normally, I would say it’s a very powerful psychic, but I would be able to sense it if it was.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Guess we’ll just have to keep digging.”

“Or we could leave,” suggested the Trickster.

“There’s nothing to suggest that angels are going to show up,” said Sam. “If they were, they probably would have already.”

The Trickster huffed and crossed his arms, but didn’t argue.

Sam stopped at the library on the way back to the motel and printed off a map of the town. “Do you know where all the weird stuff happened?”

“Yep,” said the Trickster.

“Can you mark all the locations on the map?” Sam asked him. “We might be able to find a pattern.”

The Trickster sighed, like being asked to draw on a map was the most difficult task in the history of ever, but reluctantly took the map and marked red Xs on it during the drive. “There’s some other stuff I heard when I checked out the hospital; I’m gonna put it on here, too.”

It wasn’t long before the Trickster said, “I think I found a pattern.”

“Cool, what is it?”

“All the incidents happened within a two mile radius.”

“What’s in the center?”

“Just a bunch of farmland. And-” he folded up the map “-a house.”

Sam gnawed on his lip. “Should we check it out today?”

“Your call.”

Sam glanced at the back of Isaac’s car seat in the rearview mirror. “I feel kind of bad, dragging Isaac around so much lately.”

“So spend some time with the kid today, check the house out tomorrow. We’ve got time.” The Trickster glanced at Isaac too. “Not a lot, but we’ve got time.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam knocked on the front door. He looked over his shoulder at the Trickster and Isaac in the car while he waited. The Trickster waved. He lifted Isaac in his arms so Sam could see him through the window. Sam waved back.

The door opened, and Sam quickly turned his attention to the boy standing in the doorway. He looked about eleven or twelve.

“Can I help you?” said the boy.

Sam hadn’t expected a kid to answer the door. “Hi. Uh, what’s your name?”

“Who wants to know?” The kid sounded like he was quoting a movie.

“Uh…” Sam showed the kid his badge. “FBI.”

“Let me see that.”

Sam let him examine it. No way would a kid be able to tell a fake badge from a real one. Sure enough, he gave it back without fuss.

“Are your parents home?” Sam asked.

“They work,” he said shortly.

This was not going according to plan. “Well, you mind if I ask you a few questions, maybe take a look around the house?”

The kid looked less sure of himself. “I dunno.”

“I promise it won’t take long.”

He hesitated. Sam tried to make himself as nonthreatening as possible.

“Okay,” he said. He let Sam into the house and closed the door behind him.

Completely ignoring Sam, the kid went into a different room. Sam followed him into the kitchen. The kid lifted a pot of something off the stove.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

The kid looked at Sam like he was stupid. “It’s called soup,” he said. “You heat it up and you eat it.”

Sam’s chuckle was a little forced. “Right. I, I know. It’s just, um… I used to make my own dinner, too, when I was a kid.”

He scowled. “Well, I’m not a kid.”

“Right. No, I, I know. Um…” He scratched the nape of his neck. He held out his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

The kid shook Sam’s hand. “Jesse.”

“Nice to meet you, Jesse.” There was an awkward pause. “Jesse, what do you know about itching powder?”

“That stuff will make you scratch your brains out,” Jesse said immediately.

“Pop Rocks and Coke?”

“You mix ‘em, and you’ll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that.”

Sam pulled a joy buzzer out of his pocket. Jesse eyed it warily.

“You shouldn’t have that. It’ll electrocute you.”

“Actually,” said Sam, turning it over in his hands, “it can’t. It’s just a wind-up toy. It’s totally harmless. It doesn’t even have batteries.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “It can’t shock you?”

“Nope. See?” He pressed it against his own palm. It buzzed, but nothing else happened.

“Oh.” He held out his hand. “Can I see it?”

Sam handed it to him. He copied Sam. It buzzed, but didn’t kill him.

“What did you say your name was, again?”

* * *

 “Sam, I think that child is a cambion,” the Trickster said seriously.

Sam almost crashed the car. “ _What_?”

“It would explain why I can’t sense him,” he said. “And how he’s able to bend reality so easily. Cambions are powerful creatures. If he doesn’t know what he is, and no one’s ever taught him how to control his powers, he probably doesn’t even know he’s using them.”

“But…” Sam’s head spun. Cambions had powers? They were stronger than Tricksters? A thought struck him. “Does that mean Isaac can _kill_ people?”

“Isaac won’t be like Jesse,” said the Trickster. “He has someone to mentor him, to teach him how to keep his powers in check.”

Isaac couldn’t be like him, Sam thought wildly. He couldn’t be a killer. Sam’s son was better than him.

“Sam, stop the car!”

Sam slammed on the brakes. His eyes scanned the empty road. “What? What is it?”

Instead of answering, the Trickster grabbed Sam by his shirt collar and slammed him into the window. Sam yelped and pulled at the Trickster’s hands. In the backseat, Isaac started crying.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam gasped.

“Look me in the eyes, Sam Winchester,” growled the Trickster.

Sam stopped struggling and locked eyes with the Trickster. They were an otherworldly kind of gold, with bags underneath them and laugh lines in the corners.

“You did not damn this world,” the Trickster said. “It was damned a long time before you were ever born. You are not a killer.”

They stayed like that for a very long time - or maybe it was only for a moment - before the Trickster released Sam. “Get in the backseat.”

His tone was so like Dean’s when he ordered Sam to do something during a hunt that Sam obeyed without thinking. He put the car in park and folded himself into the seat next to Isaac, behind the shotgun seat. The Trickster climbed over the console and settled in the driver’s seat.

Sam slumped in his seat the best he could and let his head loll onto his shoulder. Isaac gummed his colourful plastic keys. Sam stroked his cheek with two fingers. Isaac quickly lost interest in the keys and grabbed Sam’s hand to gnaw on instead.

“What are we going to do with him?” Sam asked finally. “He’s just a kid, we can’t kill him. But we can’t just leave him here, either.”

The Trickster sighed. He briefly met Sam’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “We could take him with us.”

Sam stayed silent.

“I could teach him how to control his powers,” the Trickster said. “Raise him like Isaac.”

Sam looked down at Isaac, who was still slobbering on Sam’s hand. If the Trickster really meant what he said about raising Jesse like Isaac… well, the Trickster had made it clear that he would do anything to protect Isaac. Jesse would be in good hands.

“Okay,” he said. “But we talk to him first. If he doesn’t want to come with us, we’ll figure something else out.”

* * *

 They went back to Jesse’s house the next day at the same time as the day before. They were banking on the fact that most jobs had pretty consistent schedules, and Jesse’s parents would probably be busy.

The Trickster knocked on the door. Just like the previous day, Jesse answered the door.

“Hi, Jesse,” said Sam. “Can we come in?”

Jesse looked at the Trickster and Isaac. “Who’re they?”

The Trickster grinned mischievously and held out his hand for Jesse to shake. “Loki. I’m Sam’s partner in crime.”

Sam tried to tamp down the surprise on his face at the name the Trickster introduced himself by. Sam had never asked him his name, had just thought of him as the Trickster. Usually, if he needed to address him, he just said _hey_ and waited until he had his attention.

“I thought he was a cop, not a criminal,” said Jesse.

“It’s just a saying. That little guy in the baby carrier there, his name is Isaac. He’s Sam’s son.” He grinned again. “Mind if we come in? We wanna talk to you about some stuff.”

Despite the wary look on his face, Jesse held the door open to go inside.

“Whaddaya wanna talk about?”

“Jesse, you know how I asked you about some stuff yesterday?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. Like Pop Rocks and stuff. You said it wasn’t true that they’d hurt you. And your face won’t actually stick that way.” He sucked his cheeks in and made crazy eyes to demonstrate.

“Right. It turns out that you’re… you’re a really -” Sam almost said special, which brought up bad memories of Azazel’s Special Children, so he changed tack real fast “- unique kid. You’ve got some really strong powers.”

“Powers? Like a superhero?”

“You bet,” quipped Loki. “But the thing is, you didn’t know you had these powers, so you were hurting people on accident.”

“No I didn’t!” blurted Jesse. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“We know you didn’t mean to,” said Loki. “You probably didn’t even know you did it. Like I said, it was an accident.”

Jesse’s mouth became a thin line. “I won't hurt anyone else. Promise.”

“You can't control that, Jesse,” Sam said gently. “It's not your fault. You don't know how. But - _Loki_ can teach you.”

“Really?” Jesse appraised at Loki like he was seeing him in a new light. “How?”

Loki wiggled his eyebrows. “I've got some powers of my own. They're not exactly like yours, but they're similar enough that I'll be able to guide you.”

“Yeah! Teach me!”

“Jesse, wait,” said Sam. “If you want Loki to teach you how to use your powers, you have to come with us. We can't stay here.”

Some of the excitement left Jesse's face. “Why?”

“There are some people who are trying to do really bad things,” Sam explained, “and we're trying to stop them.”

Jesse tilted his head. “Like… like the Joker?”

“Even worse,” said Loki solemnly. “And they probably want to hurt you before you figure out how to use your powers, or try to make you work for them. But if you come with us, I promise that won't happen.”

Jesse stared at the floor. “Will I ever get to see my mom and dad again if I go with you?” His voice was quiet.

“I don't know.” Sam hated that that was the answer, but he didn't want to lie to the kid.

“Will a lot of people get hurt if I don't go with you?”

“Probably,” said Loki.

Jesse covered his face with his hands. He took a few deep breaths and pushed his hair out of his face. “Okay.”

“Okay?” said Sam.

“I'll come with you,” he said.

Loki clapped Jesse on the shoulder. “I know it's hard, kiddo. But you made the right decision.”

For a second, Sam thought Jesse was going to shove his hand off. Instead, he just asked, “When are we leaving?”

“Right now, if it’s okay with you,” said Sam. “Do you want any help packing?”

“No,” said Jesse. “I can do it myself.” He went upstairs to go pack.

Isaac's pacifier fell out of his mouth and he whimpered. Sam picked it up and wiped it absentmindedly on the bottom of his shirt.

“Are we doing the right thing?” he asked Loki.

Loki let out a startled laugh. “Are you seriously asking me that? Of all people, me?”

“I think you have more morals than you like to let on,” said Sam.

Loki's mouth snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. He scuffed his shoe on the floor half-heartedly. “Yeah,” he said. “We're doing the right thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter after this before the plot starts diverging from the original version!


	5. Chapter 5

Jesse ended up packing a lot more toys than clothes. Sam made him put some of them back so he could fit a few more outfits in his suitcase. Jesse scowled, but didn’t argue. Sam bought him lunch at McDonald’s as they drove out of the state as a weak apology, but it seemed to cheer him up. Sam bought himself a hamburger and fries while he was at it. He didn’t usually eat at McDonald’s, but he figured if he was stopping there he might as well. Loki didn’t ask for anything, but he did steal a few of Sam’s fries.

“Where’s the hand sanitizer?” Jesse asked as they pulled out of the drive through.

“What?” said Sam.

“I have to use hand sanitizer before I can eat.”

“Right here, kiddo.” Loki tossed a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer into the backseat, which Sam knew for a fact they hadn’t had before. Loki winked at Sam and stole some more of his fries.

Jesse used a little bit more than he probably needed and some slipped off his hand onto the seat. If Sam had ever done that in the Impala, Dean would’ve kicked his ass.

Sam’s chest tightened. He wasn’t getting any better at not thinking about Dean, and it was still every time he did.

“We’ll probably be driving for most of the day,” Sam said, if only to distract himself. “I want to get pretty far away from Nebraska, just in case something caught our trail while we were there.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sam-a-lam,” said Loki. He kicked his feet up on the dashboard (god, he was so short) and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we get… wherever.”

“Feel free to take a nap, too, Jesse. It gets kinda boring being on the road all day,” advised Sam.

“Okay,” said Jesse, but as far as Sam could tell, he didn’t sleep for the whole eight hours they were on the road. Sam would have liked to have kept going, but Isaac was getting fussy, and it was pretty clear that Jesse was cranky, too.

He stopped at some motel in Middle-of-Nowhere, Oklahoma, and said, “Okay, guys, let’s drop off our stuff and then we can go get some dinner.”

Jesse clambered out of the car, yawning and shoving his McDonald’s trash on the floor. Sam got Isaac out of his car seat. Loki got Sam’s duffle, Isaac’s diaper bag, and Jesse’s suitcase out of the trunk.

“One room, two queens, please,” Sam told the guy at the counter. It felt weird asking for two queens again. He shoved the feeling away as the guy handed him a room key.

“Lemme change Isaac’s diaper, then we’ll go find something to eat,” Sam said to Jesse.

Jesse flopped down face first on one of the beds, arms spread with a matchbox car in one hand and an action figure in the other. “M’too tired.”

Loki faux gasped. “Too tired for a _milkshake_?”

Jesse lifted his head to look at him. “Milkshakes?”

“Absolutely. No road trip is complete without milkshakes.”

He sat up. “I’m not _that_ tired.”

They left their stuff in the motel room and drove to a homey little diner down the road that had lights strung up in the windows and chalk drawings on the menu.

“You guys are such a cute family,” gushed their waitress. “How long’ve you been together?”

Sam’s brain stuttered. He and Dean had been mistaken for a couple plenty of times before, but him and Loki? Of course, with Jesse and Isaac there too -

“Just over two and a half years now,” said Loki, grinning and leaning back in the booth. He ruffled Jesse’s hair and fluttered his eyelashes at Sam. “Our surrogate had that little tyke over there a few months back, and we’re happier than we’ve ever been.”

Sam’s whole face had to be red, he could feel it heating up.

“Adorable,” said the waitress. “So, what can I get y’all to drink?”

“Just water,” said Sam.

“Coupla milkshakes for me and him,” said Loki, nudging Jesse.

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate,” said Jesse.

“Same for me,” said Loki.

She flipped her notepad shut. “I’ll be right back with those.”

Jesse looked at Loki. “Why’d you lie to her?”

Loki shrugged. “It was easier than telling the truth.”

Jesse wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to pretend you guys are my dads?”

“Only if you want.”

They ate their food and paid as quickly as possible. By the time they got back to the motel, it was half past nine. Jesse dragged his feet and yawned every five seconds.

Sam was able to convince Jesse to change into his pyjamas and brush his teeth before he went to bed. Loki fluffed his pillow while he was in the bathroom.

Loki patted him on the arm. “See you in the morning, Sam-a-lam.” Sam almost asked where he was going before he remembered that Loki left at night.

“Right,” he said. “See you.”

He snapped and disappeared. Sam stared at the spot he had been standing on and rocked Isaac until Jesse shuffled out of the bathroom and collapsed on the bed farthest from the door. Usually that was Sam’s bed.

“See you,” he repeated to himself. He put Isaac down in his pack and play, stripped down to his boxers, and huddled underneath the threadbare motel blankets.

* * *

 Dean parked the Impala and dialed a number on his phone.

“Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. I’m here, what now?”

“Where are you exactly?”

“Alliance, Nebraska, at, uh -” he leaned out the window to check the name of the motel “- Liberty Motor Inn.”

Wings flapped behind him and Dean startled as Castiel appeared in the rearview mirror.

“Dude! Give me a little warning.”

Castiel ignored him. “We have a problem. The cambion is no longer here.”

“What?”

“It must have known we were coming.” Rarely did Castiel show emotions, but now he was clearly frustrated. “We will have to continue searching.”

“You telling me I drove all the way out here for nothing?”

“No. You drove here so I could tell you the cambion has fled.”

Dean rubbed his eyes wearily. “You couldn’t have done that _before_ I drove for six hours?” But he was speaking to no one. Castiel was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5! If you're super observant, you might have noticed a few small changes in this chapter - nothing plot altering - but I bet most of you noticed Dean's POV at the end. Do you like it? Should I keep adding bits of his POV now and again? Or do you hate it so much that I should never do it again? Let me know.  
> Also, I rediscovered my old Quotev account! Because I'm a huge dork and easily susceptible to nostalgia, I've started posting there again. Feel free to read this fic there as well, or if you really want to, read some of the fic I wrote in 2015 (fair warning, most of it is big yikes and kinda problematic). I'm @epicmaxride.  
> One more thing: When I add new tags, should I add them when I upload the chapter they correspond to, or should I just add the ones I know are going to be relevant later on?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the feedback on the last chapter! The overall opinion seems to be that Dean's pov is good in moderation, which is pretty much what I have planned. I hope you guys are ready for some angst, because it starts peeking through in this chapter (tw for suicidal ideation).

They left early the next morning; Sam was eager to get as far away from Nebraska as possible in case someone - or something - was tracking them.

He was a little worried about how Jesse would fare during the long drive, but he seemed to be doing just fine. He was playing with Isaac, booping his nose and laughing as he watched Isaac go cross-eyed trying to see his finger. Loki was half turned around in his seat, watching with as big a smile as Jesse.

“He has some toys in the diaper bag if you want to play with those,” Sam said. “He likes the keys.”

Jesse fished out the plastic keys and jangled them over Isaac’s head. Isaac stretched his arms up and blew a raspberry into the air as he tried to grab them. Laughing, Jesse jangled them some more and put them lower, so Isaac could reach.

Sam turned his attention back to the road and tried to ignore the headache that had been building behind his eyes all morning.

Loki snapped his fingers, and an old camcorder appeared in his hands. “Gotta get some cute videos to embarrass ‘em when they’re older.”

Sam forced a laugh and lifted one hand off the wheel to rub his eyes.

That must have caught Loki’s attention, because he stopped recording the kids and frowned at Sam. “You feeling okay?”

Just as Sam was about to say _I’m fine_ a searing pain split his skull and he cried out.

_Something being unwrapped from an old cloth. A colt,_ the _Colt._

“Sam.”

_A voice, British, “This is quite the bargaining chip.”_

“Sam!”

_Another cloth, three bullets inside. “Better not miss.”_

“Sam!”

Sam gasped and clutched and the sleeve of the person crouching in front of him. Somewhere, a baby was crying; he dimly realized it was Isaac.

“Sam, can you hear me?”

Loki’s face swam into view before him.

“Loki.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Loki smoothed the hair out of Sam’s face. “Jesus, kid, what was that?”

“Vision,” Sam mumbled gruffly. He’d thought the visions were over; he hadn’t had one in months.

Loki’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “That can’t be healthy.”

Sam shrugged and straightened up. He was kneeling on the side of the highway next to the passenger door of his car. Jesse was peering through the window, his eyebrows furrowed in one part fear, one part concern.

“I pulled the car over when you passed out,” Loki explained. “Kind of figured you weren’t ready to die.”

“Thanks.” He got to his feet, wincing as he did so. “Loki, my vision was about the Colt. Some British guy has it, I think he’s a demon. If we get it, it could be our chance to stop Lucifer!”

“Woah, woah, slow your roll, kiddo. The Colt doesn’t work on archangels. Even if it did, you can’t go after it by yourself.”

“You could help me.”

“Who would watch Jesse and Isaac?”

Sam chewed on his lower lip. “I don’t know.”

Loki stood and offered Sam his hand. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s find somewhere to stay for the night.” He shuffled Sam into the passenger seat and went around the car to get into the front seat himself.

They drove for another hour or so before Loki found a motel to stop at and check them in. Sam helped Jesse unpack his suitcase while Loki put Isaac in his playpen and ordered takeout.

Jesse seemed to have forgotten the whole ordeal, as he quickly cheered up and started organising his Hot Wheels on the bedside table. Sam perched on the edge of the bed nearer to the door and watched him, wishing he could forget about it so easily.

Isaac and Jesse slept soundly that night, but Sam lay awake tossing and turning, unable to keep his mind off the Colt. Finally, he flopped onto his back and whispered, “Loki,” into the pitch-black of the motel-room.

“You rang?”

Sam sat up and squinted at the shadow standing at the foot of his bed. “I’ve been thinking about the Colt.” Sam wrung the bedsheets nervously and waited for Loki to interrupt. When he didn’t, he said, “I know you said it doesn’t work on archangels, but it could be useful in other ways.”

“How so?”

Sam couldn’t see him, but he was certain that Loki was raising his eyebrows. “When Lucifer started talking to me in my dreams, he said he would always bring me back no matter how I died, but the Colt might be strong enough to permanently -”

“No.”

“But if he doesn’t have a vessel -”

Loki grabbed him by the chin, quick as a flash, and said, “Sam Winchester, if you kill yourself, so help me God, I’ll -” He cut himself off as Isaac made a sort of whuffling noise from his playpen. As soon as he’d quieted down, Loki hissed, “If you kill yourself, I don’t know what I’d do, and these kids wouldn’t know what to do either.” Loki’s eyes glinted dangerously - perhaps a reflection of a sliver of moonlight, or perhaps something that came from inside the demigod himself.

Sam shuddered and leaned backward to pull his chin out of Loki’s grasp. “Okay.”

“Heaven can’t have you yet.”

Privately, Sam thought heaven wouldn’t get him at all.

* * *

 When Sam woke up the next morning, he didn’t get out of bed; instead, he starfished out on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. His head was no longer pounding from his vision, but his mind was still a painful place. He’d hardly slept, and what little sleep he did get had been full of dreams of the Colt firing bullets into his skull.

His brain fizzily registered voices coming from the opposite side of the room. He raised his head to listen.

“Mom said it’s better not having siblings ‘cause they’re a pain in the ass,” Jesse was saying (Sam made a mental note to have a talk with him about appropriate language), “but I think having a little brother would be cool. I could play Hot Wheels with him, and I wouldn’t have to act out all the drivers by myself. Wanna play Hot Wheels, Isaac?”

Isaac gave a soft coo.

“You can’t act anybody out yet ‘cause you’re little, but you can when you’re older.” Jesse’s voice got quieter, and Sam strained his ears to listen. “I think I’m probably gonna stay with you guys for a long time, so you can be my little brother, Isaac. I’ll make sure I’m your best big brother ever.”

Sam’s heart ached. He pressed his face into the pillow once more. Soon, he knew, he’d have to get up and start his day, but until then he would stay there and listen to the sounds of two brothers protecting each other from the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh they're such a good family ;-;


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapter's a little late! I completely forgot to post yesterday. Unfortunately, the next chapter will be late too, as I haven't had the time/motivation to write recently. I hope you enjoy this chapter - it's my favourite so far. ;) A blessed Imbolc to those who celebrate it!

“All right,” Loki announced a few days later, “Jesse, I think it’s about time I started teaching you how to control your powers.”

Jesse’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yep. But here’s the thing, kiddo: it’s gonna be _really_ boring at first. As long as you can make it through the first, like, two or three weeks, you’re golden.”

“What do I have to do?”

“I was thinking we could start with some meditation,” said Loki. “How about we start after Isaac goes down for his nap?”

“Yeah!”

So at three o’clock that afternoon, Loki and Jesse sat criss-cross applesauce on Jesse’s motel bed.

“Sam, you want to join?” Loki asked.

Sam was surprised. “Why?”

Loki shrugged. “Meditation’s good for stress. If anyone needs it, it’s probably you.”

So Sam sat on the bed closer to the door and listened.

“Sit in a comfortable position, or lay down if you want to,” said Loki.

Jesse laid flat on his back. Sam sprawled out; back on the bed, feet on the floor, arms open wide.

“Begin to count your breath. Breathe in for four counts - one... two... three... four - hold your breath for two counts - one... two - breathe out for four counts - one... two... three... four - and hold your breath for two more counts. Do this a few more times before letting your breath fall into its natural rhythm…”

The meditation was over surprisingly quickly. Sam said as much out loud.

“You want to build up to meditating for longer periods of time,” explained Loki. “You don’t just want to jump straight in and immediately meditate for half an hour; it wouldn’t work. Meditating is just like any other skill - you need to practice in order to get good at it.”

Meditation sessions wove themselves into their daily routine. While Isaac napped, Loki and Jesse meditated. More often than not, Sam joined them. It was a welcome respite from the countless hours of fruitless research.

The rest of their routine grew, as well. After meditation, but before Isaac woke up from his nap, Sam laid a blanket on whatever gross motel floor they were at so he and Jesse could play Hot Wheels without worrying about catching a disease. Jesse had thirty-two different Hot Wheels, and he’d given each of them a name and a distinct personality. Sometimes, Jesse got frustrated because Sam said something out of character for whichever car Sam was acting out, and he made them start the whole scenario over. After Isaac woke, Sam fed him, then Sam, Jesse, and Loki all played with and cooed over him, then they ordered takeout and watched Cyber Chase (it was Jesse’s favourite show).

Gradually, the meditation sessions got longer and longer. They grew from five minutes, to ten, to fifteen, and eventually all the way to half an hour. Sam was getting good at focusing on his breath, letting the world around him melt away. The sessions were also getting more complicated. That is to say, they focused on more than just their breathing.

“Become aware of yourself,” Loki said during one meditation, “look down into your core and feel your essence. Feel your power.”

Not once did it occur to Sam that Loki was talking to Jesse, who was the reason they were meditating in the first place. So Sam turned his attention inward, extending his consciousness into his own being.

Hues of red and gold and burgundy flickered at the edge of his vision - not _vision_ , exactly, but it was the closest he could get to explaining the sensation to someone who hadn’t experienced it themself.

It was a strange feeling. Comfortable, like it was familiar, but awkward, like a family reunion with people he hadn’t seen in years. Sam eased away from the colours, and the feelings lessened.

As he continued meditating for the next few days, the awkwardness faded, and the comfortable feeling intensified until he felt completely at home among the reds, golds, burgundys, and the recently-discovered lightning flashing around the periphery of his mind.

Jesse was making great strides in his own mediation, it seemed. Every night after dinner he excitedly told Loki and Sam all about what he’d seen or felt during the day’s meditation. Loki grinned proudly, ruffled his hair, and said, “Great job, kiddo.”

Once, Jesse asked what Sam saw during meditation.

“Me?” said Sam, vaguely surprised.

Jesse nodded.

“Oh… I don’t know. Colours. Lightning.”

Loki leaned forward with interest. “Lightning?”

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

“Nah. Pretty uncommon, though…”

* * *

 It all came to a head some time in mid October, when Sam had a dream.

_The sun beat down on the back on his neck, and he tipped his head up to drink in the warmth. A light breeze blew around him, creating a ripple effect on the field of flowers._

_The gentle warmth of the sun turned blistering hot. Sam opened his eyes. To his horror, the field of gladiolus flowers was burning around him, crumbling to ashes. He tried desperately to pull some from the field, but they died the instant their roots left the ground._

_The flowers rebloomed rapidly as the fire moved, but it returned and consumed them again just as quickly as it had the first time. Disease began festering upon their leaves. The flowers craned their blossoms skyward, as if the sun could protect them._

Sam startled awake to find his face wet with tears. A worried Loki hovering over him. 

“Loki,” he said, “what’s _happening_ to me?”

Loki opened his mouth to answer, but Jesse sleepily murmured, “Loki?”

Loki soothed a hand over his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

Jesse’s eyes slid shut.

Loki turned back to Sam, his face carefully blank. “I think we need to talk.”

Sam scooted up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard and pulled his knees into his chest. Loki sat cross-legged in front of him.

“You know you have powers.”

“When I was on demon blood.”

“Yeah, but you have your own powers. Sam, I think you’re a natural-born psychic. In fact, I’m almost certain of it.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Think about it, it makes sense. You had that vision about the Colt a few weeks ago, but you haven’t had demon blood since - what, since Lucifer was set free? And those meditation exercises we do are meant specifically for people with supernatural abilities. I can guarantee that you would not be seeing the colours and lightning you told us about unless you had some kind of powers.”

“And what about my dream?”

“The one just now? Describe it.”

“I… was in a field, and it was full of flowers. Gladiolus. And they were burning.”

“Did they grow back?”

Sam nodded.

“It sounds like you were seeing your own soul.”

“ _What_?”

“Gladiolus flowers represent strength and integrity, and it sounds like yours were prevailing through tragedy, which, if I’m honest, sounds a lot like your life.”

Sam was quiet. He covered his face with his hands and silently counted to five. “What does that have to do with my powers?”

Loki stared at him in disbelief. “Sam, you were _seeing your own soul_. Souls are where natural psychics and magic-users get their magic from. Azazel’s blood, demon blood, was like… like a vitamin supplement. Sure, it helped, but you have all the materials you need _inside_ you.”

“But… how do I control it?”

Loki laughed. “Sam, you’re already controlling it. You’ve been controlling it all your life - well, sort of. You were _repressing_ it. Now you’re letting up on your grip of it, though. I could teach you to direct it if you want.”

“But it’s my power? It’s not - it’s not from the demon blood? Any of it?”

“One hundred percent, all-natural, Sam-induced powers. From cage-free, grass-fed Sams,” teased Loki. “Seriously, though, you don’t have to worry about these powers being evil. You’re not going to accidentally kill someone.You have experience using your powers, so you know how to control them. If you want me too, I can train you to use them without the demon blood. If not -” he shrugged “- that’s cool, too. The ball is in your court.”

“Can I think about it first?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“You can take all the time in the world to think about it, kiddo. Nobody can make your choices but you.”

“Thanks.”

Loki patted Sam on the shoulder. “No problem.”

Sam shuffled back under the covers. Loki raised his right hand, fingers poised to snap.

“Loki?”

He paused. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“You can stay tonight. If you want.”

Sam couldn’t see it in the dark, but he knew Loki was smiling. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Loki settled into the chair at the foot of Sam’s bed and prepared to watch over him for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Top tip: the breathing exercise they do while meditating works wonders.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter eight! Sorry to make you wait so long. Unfortunately, I can almost guarantee that the next chapter will not be up on time, as it's going to be verrrrrrrrrry long. In addition to that, I'm in the school play, and rehearsals start soon, which means I'll have less time to write :( I'll do my best to keep updates as regular as possible.

When Sam and Loki met the next day, Sam had two things to say.

“So, I thought about it, and I want to start testing my powers,” said Sam.

Loki nodded. “Cool beans.”

“ _But_ , I don’t want to learn anything you wouldn’t teach Jesse.”

That seemed to have surprised Loki. But he nodded slowly and said, “Okay. In that case, I’ll just teach you and Jesse at the same rate. We can do joint lessons.”

He stood. “We should start off simple. Maybe - oh, yeah, that’s perfect. Back in a bit, Sammy!” He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Later, after they had all gotten out of bed and eaten breakfast, Loki popped back into the room, carrying a shopping bag in each hand. “Okay, so I got some stuff for witchcraft.”

Jesse pawed through the bags. “Witchcraft?”

“Heck yeah, witchcraft.”

“But witches are girls. And they have gross warts and green skin.”

Loki ruffled his hair. “Nonsense; I know plenty of witches who aren’t girls, and none of them have warts _or_ green skin. Now, scoot, let me set this up.” He pulled from the shopping bags a large bowl, several containers of dried herbs, a map, and a lighter.

“Alright, gather round, kiddos.” Loki clapped his hands together. “So, I figured I would start you guys off with a tracking spell, because they’re pretty simple.” He briefly explained how to do the spell, then handed Sam the bowl.

“Cast away, Sammy.”

“What am I locating?”

Loki pressed something sticky into his hand. It was a piece of hard candy. “A giant, rainbow-coloured lollipop.”

Jesse laughed.

Sam mixed the herbs and the piece of lollipop in the bowl, keeping his intent in mind the whole time, and spoke the Latin incantation Loki had instructed him to say. All he had left to do was to put in one final leaf of basil.

He hesitated.

Loki’s hand rested on his forearm. “It’s okay, Sam. Just remember: whatever Jesse can do, you can do, to.”

Sam nodded and exhaled loudly. “Right,” he said, and dropped the leaf into the bowl.

The map began to fold itself up into a tiny, compact square until all it showed was a town in Indiana.

“The lollipop is in -” he looked closer at the map “- Elkhart, Indiana?”

Loki applauded. “Good job, Sam!”

They cleaned up and reset the spellcasting area for Jesse’s turn. Although he stumbled through the Latin pronunciation somewhat, he performed the spell well and got fairly close to the location of the second lollipop.

For the next few weeks, they practiced witchcraft, beginning with simple material spells like tracking spells and illumination spells, then moved onto spells like breaking and repelling. Loki even got Sam to try a diagnostic spell, although he quickly decided not to do it again until Jesse could learn it.

“So when do I get to use my powers on the bad guys?” Jesse asked one day during practice.

Sam only just managed to repel the practice bottle flying towards his head. “ _What_?”

Jesse’s blithe demeanor slipped. “You know. The bad guys. When you got me, you said I’d get to use my powers on bad guys. Like the Joker.”

Sam and Loki exchanged glances. Even though Jesse was undoubtedly a part of their group, they hadn’t let him in on most things regarding what was going on in the supernatural world.

“We’ll talk about it later,” said Sam.

“Think fast!” said Loki, and threw a bottle to distract him.

* * *

 “I don’t know how much to tell him,” Sam told Loki after Jesse had gone to sleep that night. “I don’t know how much I _want_ to tell him.”

Loki wiggled his finger in front of Isaac’s face half-heartedly as he talked. “I know what you mean.”

“But we have to tell him _something_.”

“We should just keep it completely in kid terms. He still has a very limited knowledge of the supernatural - all he really knows is that he has superpowers.”

“But I don’t want to lie to him that much. When I was a kid… I didn’t know about the supernatural until I figured it out for myself, and I resented Dad and Dean for not telling me. I still do, kind of. And I was younger than Jesse when I found out.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Sam gnawed on his bottom lip. “Tell him about the supernatural in general, I guess. The angels, the demons, all that kind of stuff; we’d have to tell him about that eventually anyway. I just… I don’t know what to tell him about the apocalypse.”

“A simplified, sanitized version.”

Sam sighed. “I guess.” He hunched his shoulders. “It just feels like… if we tell him, he’ll never be able to escape all this. I don’t want him to get stuck on the same path I did.”

Loki’s eyes softened. “He’s a cambion, Sammy. He’s never going to be able to get out of this life completely, and that’s not your fault.”

As Isaac’s eyes began to droop, Sam took the bottle out of his mouth and wiped a bit of milk off his chin. “I know.”

“Knowing something and implementing that knowledge are two entirely different things.”

“I know that, too,” snarked Sam.

Loki smacked him on the butt as Sam carried Isaac over to his pack and play. “Smartass.”

“You love it.”

He made a kissy face. “Sure do.” He grabbed Sam’s arm and his face sombered. “Hey. You you’re not doing this alone, right? We’re a team. I’m here for you.”

A wave of emotion washed over him. “Thanks, Loki. That means a lot to me.”

Loki patted his hand. “No problem, kiddo. Now get some sleep.”

The next morning, they told Jesse everything - well, at least a kid-friendly version of everything. When they finished, Jesse was silent.

“Jess?” Sam said. “You okay, buddy?”

“What’s gonna happen?” said Jesse. “What’s gonna happen if we don’t stop the angels and the demons? Are we gonna die?”

“No way,” Loki interjected. “There’s no way we can die, because we have a secret weapon.”

“What is it?”

“The tickle monster!” he said, and pounced.

Jesse laughed and giggled and squealed as he tried to get away from Loki’s wiggling fingers. “I’m too old for the tickle monster! That’s for babies!”

“Oh? Should I tickle Isaac instead?”

“Yes!”

So Loki and Jesse tickled Isaac as Sam laughed at them and buckled down in preparation for a long day of research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's powers! :D


End file.
